Surrender On Both Sides
by Lugian Before Swine
Summary: 'Normal life' AU. The sensible thing to do when you want to figure out your purpose in life is to go on a five-year-long road trip, right? That's what Matt thought, but as time goes on, he begins to regret the impulsive decision that led him to where he is. Matt/Mello, L/Light.
1. Part 1: Decision

**A/N: Hello! I really have no excuse for writing this, since I already have a chaptered fic that's in desperate need of updating, but I hope you enjoy this little AU nonetheless! It's only gonna be 3 parts (for now), and then I'll get back to writing "I And Love And You." I certainly haven't forgotten about it; in fact, this fic started its life as chapter 4 of IALAY, but when L and Light magically inserted themselves in here I knew it had to be its own thing. Anyway, I kinda fell in love with this 'verse and I hope you do too!**

**Warnings: Frequent scene switching, textual mood swings, unrequited Halle/Mello (I'm sorry, I couldn't help it), and pining all over the place.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or anything recognizable.**

* * *

On some level, Mello realized that this was rather pathetic. And by 'this,' he meant the last five years of his life.

It wasn't that he hadn't tried to move on; he really, honestly had. But some things are easier said than done, and that was certainly one of them.

Here he was, 23 years old, living in a mediocre apartment and working at the local drug store for just above minimum wage. This was okay with him; he didn't expect or want anything spectacular from his life, barring one major event that he hoped for every day: that his best friend, who had left without a trace five years ago, would contact him somehow.

Matt had been Mello's best friend for as long as he could remember. They had lived next door to each other for all of their lives, up until Mello had left for college and Matt had left for God knows where. In college, Mello had flourished academically, putting all his effort into studying in an attempt to channel his constant sadness into something productive. It had worked, and he had graduated with high honors. But with nothing to motivate him after graduation, he had sunk into a seemingly pointless cycle of working, sleeping, and hoping, and it was only interrupted by the infrequent visits of his sole college friend.

The first time Mello met Near, he had been walking to one of his classes, minding his own business, when a book had fallen on his head. The book, Mello had discovered, belonged to Near, who was sitting in a tree, the branches of which hung over the sidewalk.

It was an odd beginning to a friendship, but then, Near was an odd person. He was also a very good listener, as Mello quickly discovered, and he soon found himself telling Near everything he could about Matt. Near was calculating and unemotional, though, and he never gave Mello any false hope of Matt's return. And in a way, Mello had found that helpful, since he could never be rational about the subject, himself.

* * *

Today progressed like any other day. Mello awoke promptly at 6:30 AM, ate breakfast, showered, and left for work to start his shift at 7:30. He dealt with nearly-deaf old people attempting to solicit his advice on which cream to use to heal their terrible rash, along with teenagers awkwardly shuffling their way to the register, attempting to cleverly hide their pack of condoms in between energy drinks. Every hour or so, his immediate supervisor, a sarcastic, impeccably dressed blond woman, would arrive at his register to check on him. Mello was never entirely sure, but sometimes he got the feeling that she was attempting to flirt with him. He wished she would stop.

It wasn't that he had anything against Halle; she was quite pretty and was never rude to him. He just couldn't think of her as anything more than his supervisor. She was also nearly ten years older than him, which didn't help her case.

And, as Near had so plainly stated one day after Mello had told him of his suspicions regarding Halle, Mello would never be able to be in a relationship with anyone because he was hung up on the memory of Matt.

Yes, that's true, and I know that, Mello had said, and so Near had elaborated:

_It's obvious you were in love with him, and you still are._

* * *

Matt was not homesick.

Not once over the past five years had he ever experienced that particular feeling. He didn't miss his parents, he didn't miss the rest of his extended family, and he certainly didn't miss the suburban town he had grown up in. To be fair, he did miss his dog, an Irish Setter named Penny who liked to smother his face in doggy kisses. But being homesick was a foreign concept to Matt.

He supposed the more appropriate term for his feelings was one of his own design: he was Mello-sick.

There was nothing and no one that he missed more in the world. Before he had left, there had been very few days when he hadn't at least seen Mello, and though their 18-year friendship had certainly had its ups and downs (especially vivid in Matt's mind was the night he had thrown an entire watermelon at Mello's face—it was a long story), they had remained the best of friends, and neither one had ever considered ending their friendship.

That is, until Matt had gotten this stupid idea in his head and it had ruined everything.

His parents never had any concern for what he did, and because of this, they let him get away with anything. Matt had never completely tested their boundaries when it came to what he could and couldn't do, until the day when he bought a car using their money and promptly went on a five-year-long road trip.

It had started as a kind of soul-searching adventure: Matt had just graduated high school and had absolutely no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He had thought that maybe seeing more of the world than a few suburban towns would help him find his calling. Instead, he had ended up living in an apartment with a ridiculous roommate who insisted that Matt refer to him only as "L", spending the rest of the money he had "borrowed" from his parents, and working at a video game store under a manager who knew nothing about gaming.

And through it all, he had wanted to contact Mello every day, but something in him would hold him back, and it bothered him that he could never figure out what it was. The threat of humiliation? The defeat of his pride? The knowledge that he had waited so long to attempt this that Mello probably hated him by now? Whatever it was, it prevented him from making any moves towards reuniting with Mello.

Until today.

Today, L had revealed to Matt that he was banging Matt's manager, and Matt had subsequently had a complete and total freak-out, questioning everything he had ever known and throwing some prayers around to various gods for good measure.

Of course, L hadn't used those exact words; he had expressed it a bit more delicately. But only a bit.

"So, Matt," he had said while he ate his fourth ice cream sundae of the day, "you are aware that Mr Yagami, your manager, and I, are…friends, correct?"

No. No, Matt had not been aware of that.

"Well, recently, our relationship has progressed to a level beyond which the notion of 'friendship' appropriately describes. I just thought you should know, in case anything should come up about it at your work." While he had been speaking, he had neatly tied a cherry stem in a knot with his tongue, and then he had placed it on the table in front of him and excused himself.

And that was why Matt was now sitting on the fire escape of his apartment building, questioning his very existence, and also how he would ever face Light at work the next day.

* * *

Sometimes, Matt would come back to him.

Mello would find him outside his apartment door, a sheepish smile on his face, and he would say "Hi" and toe the hallway carpet a little and Mello would pull him inside with a little too much force and would be equal doses angry and ecstatic.

Or he'd run into Matt on the street, and would recognize him instantly but be too afraid to say anything. They would look at each other for a long moment, then Matt would reach out to him, slowly, tentatively, and people would walk past them on the busy street and not even notice. Matt would cup Mello's cheek and Mello would touch Matt's hand, and it would be like they were alone despite all the people shuffling around them.

Or Matt would call him and Mello would melt into the sound of his voice, slightly distorted by the bad reception but unmistakably him. And they would arrange to meet somewhere, and Mello would spend the hours or days or weeks until their meeting doing nothing but worrying and hoping.

But in the end, every scenario always ended the same way: with a jolt of awakening, a sigh of disappointment, and a resolve to make it through the day the best that Mello could.

And maybe the room always felt a bit colder afterwards, but that was probably just Mello's imagination.

* * *

"So I take it L told you."

_Oh God, oh God._ "Yes, he…he told me."

"Good. Could you stock that cabinet? We have a bunch of trade-ins piled up in the back."

Matt hadn't slept. He had spent the entire night immersed in a fog of thought, which had gotten progressively more incoherent the longer the night went on. He had started thinking about how best to contact Mello when he didn't even know where he lived or if he had the same phone number. Curse their mutual pact to never join Facebook, he had thought. He would gladly slog through the inane status updates of a thousand air-headed girls to find out where Mello was right now. Then, as the sky had begun to brighten and birds had started to sing, his thoughts had gotten a bit confusing and distinctly not Mello-related. _How did birds first figure out they could fly? Why can't humans fly? Evolution and stuff, I guess. E-vo-lu-tion. Words are weird. Why is that the word to describe that process? Sounds pretty science-y, I guess. If apples are blue why isn't my foot asleep?_

It was at that point that he had determined that his night would be completely sleepless, and so he had traipsed to the kitchen and eaten an entire box of one of L's extra-sugary cereals, which he would undoubtedly pay for when he returned from work.

Right now, though, his primary concerns were stocking one of the used games cabinets and avoiding Light at all costs.

Once his stocking was completed, Matt shut himself up in the break room, prepared a large cup of coffee, and texted Mello. Or, rather, he composed a text to Mello's number and then saved it in his drafts without sending it. This was something he hadn't done in a while, but as he scrolled through them now, he realized he had done this quite a few times in the past. More times than was healthy, probably.

The earliest ones were all along the lines of_ I've decided to leave, don't know where I'm going yet, gonna miss you a freakin' shit-ton._ As time went on, they became more upbeat:_ Guess where I went today? The Hershey's Chocolate Factory! You'd've loved it, seriously._ And finally, the tone shifted to that of sadness:_ I'm so sorry, Mels. I'm stupid and I shouldn't have done this._

The text that Matt composed today would remain both unfinished and unsent. _There is nothing I want more than to be able to see you again. But you've probably_

Forgotten about me. Moved on. Been mad at me for so long that you could never feel any other way.

Sometimes, on days when Matt is particularly honest with himself, and he can't ignore the pang in his heart, he will type _Mello I know you don't care but I love you_ and that way he ensures that the text will forever remain unsent.

* * *

Nothing like this has ever happened to him before.

He's standing behind the counter with 30 minutes left in his shift and no customers in sight, and Halle is approaching.

Mello smiles politely at her like he always does. Her face remains passive like it always does. Then she says, "You get off at 3:30."

"Yes," Mello says, because he knows this and she knows this and he's worked this shift, 7:30 AM to 3:30 PM, since he started at the drug store a year ago. Why they are wasting breath having this conversation is a mystery to Mello.

"Do you want to get coffee afterwards?"

Oh no. Oh, no, no, no. Is she…_is she asking me on a date? Is that what this is?_

"Are you asking me on a date?" he blurts out incredulously before he can stop himself.

Halle cocks her head a bit, then nods.

"Umm," Mello says. "Well," and he usually doesn't stammer, but this is a completely new situation and he's unsure how to react. He doesn't feel_ that way_ about Halle, but maybe if he stipulates that they go as friends…he could do with another friend.

"An 'outing with a friend'?" Halle repeats, making air quotes around the words as she says them. "Well, ok. Whatever you wanna call it."

* * *

Mello calls Near that night and explains what happened with Halle, and Near seems unimpressed.

"So you went on a date," he says. "Good for you."

"No," Mello insists. "It wasn't a date. I told her it wasn't a date."

"_You_ might not have considered it a date, but you can't stop her from calling it whatever she wants in her head."

Mello sighs, and then there's a long pause.

"Mello," Near says finally. "Just call Matt."

"What?! This has nothing to do with Matt!"

"Everything in your life has something to do with Matt," Near says, and he seems bored by the conversation. Mello can just see him sitting in his chair, elbow on his knee, twirling a curl of hair with a tired expression on his face.

And Mello realizes that Near is right. Of course he is, because Near is always right. He shouldn't be leading Halle on, even if he doesn't mean to. He shouldn't be calling Near at odd hours of the day and night just to talk to him about someone he's never even met. He shouldn't be so hung up on Matt and yet so unwilling to change his situation. He shouldn't be stagnating at an entry-level job, wasting his degree, wasting his youth.

He hangs up with Near and comes to a decision. He's either going to try his damned hardest to bring Matt back into his life, or he's going to forget about him for good. There's no middle ground. It's been a long time, and Mello shouldn't have to suffer like this just because he's been too scared to do anything about his life.

He allows himself a night to sleep on it, and can't help but think that his future rests solely on this decision, no matter how dramatic that might sound.

* * *

**The title of this fic is from "Sax Rohmer #1" by The Mountain Goats.**

**Also, I'd like to address something. I know there's no reason for them to be using their nicknames since this is a normal life AU, but there's a simple reason for it: that's how we're familiar with the characters. We know them by their nicknames and that's how I feel comfortable writing them. That's not to say that using their true names in AUs is a bad thing, I just don't think it's necessary in this fic. You can think of your own reason for them going by their nicknames.**

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you join me again for part 2, coming soon!**


	2. Part 2: Reaction

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. Life has a way of messing with your plans. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Matt has a secret. It's a secret he'd never tell anyone, and it's hard enough to even have the knowledge of it in his head.

He's pretty sure he saw Mello on the street yesterday.

He can't be certain, mind. It has been five years, after all, and people change, and it was just a brief glimpse before he turned a corner but Matt's pretty sure he'd recognize those eyes anywhere.

The thing is—and this is the hardest part about this whole thing—Mello wasn't alone. He was with a woman, a very pretty woman, and they were walking close together and talking and then they disappeared.

Of course, that doesn't necessarily mean anything, and it might not have even been Mello that he saw. But Matt is in a rather emotional mood, so he composes a draft that says _Well she's pretty_ and then he gets mad at himself and L notices and he really doesn't want to talk to L about this but L can be quite forceful when he wants to be.

"I take it you're not having any relationship troubles," Matt grouses, and he immediately regrets it and tugs his goggles on tighter over his eyes, as if they can protect him from the awful verbal assault his ears are about to receive.

But L, surprisingly, doesn't launch into a detail-oriented epic about the specific things he and Matt's manager do when it's dark outside. Instead, he says, "You know, that's the first time you've referred to it as such."

"…What?" Matt asks cautiously.

"A relationship," L says simply. "I can tell you mean a romantic relationship because you immediately transposed it to Light and myself."

Well. Maybe Matt's never said as much out loud, but Mello has always been the most important person in the world to him and maybe he's always loved him a little more than he should, since he was old enough to realize what that meant.

But he's certainly not going to say as much to L. L, for his part, seems to have lost interest in the conversation, and for this, Matt is glad.

* * *

It's just past 10 in the morning, and Mello is still in bed. Objectively, this isn't a bad thing, since it's Saturday and he has nowhere to be. But it is extremely strange, since normally, he's up by 8, too adjusted to his weekday schedule to sleep any later.

To be fair, he hasn't slept more than 3 hours, despite having gone to bed at a reasonable time. His stupid overactive mind hasn't once left him alone, even during his fleeting moments of sleep. Believing that if he just stays in bed, he won't have to come to a decision on the 'contacting Matt' issue, Mello does not see himself getting up any time soon.

He's spent the whole night thinking about it, working out every possible scenario that could occur, and still he lacks a final conclusion. It's obvious that he could never really move on from this; it has been five years and Matt still takes up most of his thoughts. But if he did try to contact him…Matt probably wouldn't have the same phone number, and he'd probably be living somewhere far away, and, most devastatingly, he probably wouldn't care. He wouldn't have left in the first place if he did, right?

Sighing, Mello turns over and stares at his alarm clock. The numbers seem to taunt him. _You're wasting time. You're not helping yourself. What are you even doing?_ To be honest, he doesn't know, but it certainly isn't productive. And then, finally, he comes to a decision. He's going to try to call Matt. Today. As soon as possible. As soon as he feels ready. But he will do it today, before he wastes another day of his monotonous life pining and feeling sorry for himself and not getting anywhere.

With the idea firmly planted in his mind, and having now soundly terrified himself with the gravity of it, he finally pulls himself out of bed and begins his morning routine. This could be the day that everything changes.

* * *

Nothing is ever going to change.

Matt can't do it. He really, really wants to; he wants to more than anything else he's ever wanted in his life. But he can't. All it would take is one press of the 'send' button; one touch of one finger one time, taking one second. But all his attempts to talk himself into it have failed.

L is wisely avoiding the issue; despite having little to no social skills, he has managed to pick up on the fact that Matt _does not want to talk about it _and L will even leave the room if it seems like Matt wants some time to himself. Matt would be more grateful for this if he wasn't so consistently miserable, and so acutely aware that the whole scenario was entirely his fault.

It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon in a city that he has grown to love, and the summer air doesn't even feel as stifling as it usually does, and this should do something to ease Matt's sour mood, but it doesn't. He paces the streets, lost in thought, shooting fleeting glances toward random strangers, filled with some ridiculous hope, until he finds himself at the corner where he deluded himself into seeing Mello the day before.

He pauses in the middle of the sidewalk, vaguely irritating the pedestrians around him, but he doesn't care. He looks around; there's a large office building that takes up the entirety of the corner. He walks along one side until the building ends, and a little ways down, there's a coffee shop. Well. This was probably their destination, then; they were probably on a date. Or maybe they're already dating. Maybe they have been for a long time. Maybe they're even engaged, or married. Maybe Matt wants to inflict emotional damage on himself, and he certainly knows the best way to do it.

But maybe, probably, it wasn't even Mello.

And still, the unsent text messages taunt Matt. So easy. So difficult.

* * *

It's not even noon before the pacing begins. Mello is clutching his pillow and walking in circles around the tiny living area of his apartment. He's forcibly denying himself chocolate, since he's already worked through 12 bars in the short time he's been awake. He's considered calling Near, but decided that he didn't want to bother him with this after all the Matt-related ranting Mello has put him through. This had to be Mello's decision; he has to follow through on his own. It's just incredibly challenging to do so.

What would he even say, assuming that Matt actually has the same number and answers his phone? _Hey, it's been a while, how are you, fancy a chat? _Mello couldn't think of a single appropriate opening line. And what if all this build-up led to nothing, and Matt had changed his phone number, which was highly likely?

Mello can't remember the last time he's cried, but he would not be at all surprised if some tears of frustration and anxiety were to slip out now.

* * *

When Matt returns from his sobering journey, the first thing he sees upon entering the apartment is a pillow flying at his face.

"Whh—" he splutters as it hits him in the mouth, and he catches it on the way down, peering around it suspiciously. L is standing a few feet away, an odd expression on his face, and Matt is just about to ask what the hell is going on when L speaks.

"I did some research, and I concluded that you need to 'lighten up.' Don't think I haven't noticed your change in disposition, and don't think I'm unaware of the cause. If you are incapable of changing your situation at the present time, I believe the best thing to do is to distract you from it. Hence—" he gestures at the pillow, "—this."

Matt stares at him blankly. L may actually be right about something related to human interaction for once, and the thought almost makes Matt laugh.

"You're smiling," L says. "Good. …Correct?" He adds the last word as a bit of an afterthought, tilting his head slightly as if waiting for Matt to confirm or deny his hypothesis.

"…Good, you crazy bastard," Matt says, and he chucks the pillow back at L, who actually maybe cracks something almost like a genuine smile for once.

If Matt had known that something as childish and simple as having a pillow fight with his roommate would ease his mood, he would have engaged in one a lot sooner.

* * *

It's half past 4, and Mello has a pounding headache. The near-constant pacing certainly didn't help, and that, coupled with the fact that he's hardly eaten anything but chocolate all day, has driven him to the couch, where he lies clutching his phone and wishing he could just get this whole mess over with already.

When he equates this wanting with the wanting of a tangible object, the whole situation looks completely ridiculous. If you want an ice cream cone, you go to an ice cream shop and buy one, he reasons. If you want to talk to your friend, you get your phone and call him. It should be the same thing; it should be that simple. But it isn't, and that's extremely distressing.

Mello rolls over, groans, and buries his face in his hands. Okay. As soon as his headache goes away, he'll call. That's the deal, he tells himself. Now he just has to stick with it.

* * *

Surprisingly, spending time with L has actually made Matt feel better, as opposed to L's usual effect of making Matt feel slightly disoriented and vaguely annoyed. L has hardly even mentioned Light the entire day, which is a feat in and of itself.

It's late evening, and they're watching crappy TV. The plights of the sitcom protagonists make Matt feel better about his own situation, despite the fact that the two things are completely different, and L refrains from verbally analyzing every second of every program, so Matt decides that today was an all right day.

At a commercial break, L gets up to concoct a disgusting mixture of various sugary substances, leaving Matt alone in the living area. Bored, he pulls out his phone and vaguely clicks through some settings, determinately not looking through all his unsent texts to Mello. There is no need to ruin his current semi-contented mood.

He's halfway through downloading a new ringtone when his phone goes off, interrupting the download and flashing a message across the screen: _Incoming call from Mello._

Matt's hands immediately stiffen and he grips his phone as though it's an anchor. His heart takes off like a shot, causing pounding in his ears and pulsing in his veins. _No. There is no way. Someone changed their name in my phone; this is someone's idea of a joke. There is—no. No._ What would happen if he answered? He has to answer. Time seems to slow to a crawl around him as his ringer continues beeping. How long before it goes to voicemail? What if he doesn't answer and the caller doesn't leave a message and what if it really is—

Very slowly, he reaches out and swipes his thumb across the screen, picking up the call. For a second he can't get his muscles working in the proper way so as to put the phone next to his ear, but it's only a temporary delay and then he's sitting there on the phone with—whoever is on the other end.

He takes a deep breath, half willing it to be a joke, half not daring to hope that it's anything else.

"H…" his voice sounds weak and thin; his hands shake so that the phone practically vibrates against his ear. "…Hello?"

The person on the other end gasps, seems to choke, and then there's a noise as if the phone is being brushed against something, and the voice is gone. After a second, it comes back, very quietly: "Matt?"

* * *

**I'm sorry about the evil cliffhanger, I really am, but it's just so much fun. There's only one more part after this, and I hope you join me again for the conclusion!**


End file.
